


His Protector

by NightRain712



Series: Not-quite-drabbles [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Slash, Some bad language, some violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-20 17:37:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11925870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightRain712/pseuds/NightRain712
Summary: Assholes beating on a blind kid.





	His Protector

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired entirely by a real video. It's on YouTube for anyone who wants to see it, titled something like: blind kid saved by Cody pine
> 
> Spoiler: no one is seriously injured.

The bell rings, signaling the end of lunch, and Stiles grabs his stuff, his lunch tray already taken care of. The crowd of students is loud, and most of them are pushy and unapologetic, but this isn't really anything new, so Stiles just focuses on making his way to chem class with his least favorite teacher. He's almost out of the courtyard, just minding his own business, when he runs into another student. They both fall to the ground, and Stiles hears the other kid start swearing profusely.

“Fucking asshole!” the kid yells.

Stiles makes to stand up, but then a fist is colliding painfully with his face, and he goes flying backwards. A shoe kicks into his ribs, and he coughs and groans, curling into it.

“Think you can just do whatever the fuck you want, huh!”

A knee digs into him and then another punch lands on his nose, his mouth, his eye. Kids are screaming and yelling all around him, but he can't focus on anything except for the pain. Everything is too fast for him to anticipate a blow or kick, and he's mostly just trying to shield himself as best as he can.

The weight of the other kid lifts off him, so Stiles tries standing up. He gets his feet under him, but then there's a hand gripping the collar of shirt, and when another punch connects to his face, his head flies back. He brings up his arms to block the next punch, but then he feels it in his gut instead. Two, three, four more punches land solidly, along with a kick or two, and then there's nothing.

He hears a loud smacking sound, followed by a huge thud. A hand grips him again a moment later, and he winces, already bracing for the next attack.  
Instead he's moved a couple feet away, and the hands, because there are two now, gently shove him against a tree. The hands leave, and he's forced to lean against the tree, or fall down.

“Hey! What's your problem, asshole!”

The shout catches his attention, and Stiles refocuses on the scuffle.

“He was beating up a blind kid!” is the answering shout. “What's your problem, asshole!”

There are more mumblings and curses, the sound of many feet, many bodies, moving this way and that. He's still trying to catch his breath, listening to what's going on, when a hand suddenly, gently, touches his face.

“Hey, you alright?” the voice is soft and light, full of concern, and Stiles is struck by two thoughts. First, was this his savior? And second, he had the strangest feeling that this guy's voice should be lower pitched, but it's not.

“Stiles, are you okay?” the same voice asks him.

“Derek!” someone, no, the principal, shouts. “What is going here?”

“Some asshole kid was beating on Stilinski!” the guy, possibly his savior, responds.

“Are you okay, Stiles?” the guy asks again.

“You know my name?” he mumbles, confused.

The guy huffs and touches his face again, looking at the damage.

The principal comes over and starts talking with his savior, and she probably asked Stiles something, but he's kind of really out of it. Honestly, he feels like he might fall down and pass out.

He's still trying to process everything when the hand on his face moves down to his shoulder and gently steers him away from the tree. He hears the principal speak again, her words still oddly muffled to his ears, and then he's being guided, no other word for it, somewhere. A minute or so later, the hand on his shoulder tightens and he stops walking. A car door opens, and he's being gently ushered into it. He feels a backpack (probably his, if he thinks about it) placed between his feet, and then his seatbelt is buckled and his door closed. The driver door opens, someone gets in, buckles and closes their door, starts the car.

In a moment of lucidity, Stiles wonders who he's in a strange car with.

“Derek?” he says the name he heard shouted earlier.

“Yeah?” thank god it’s the same voice.

“Derek Hale?” he asks to clarify, as if there's another Derek at his school.

“Yeah.” he acknowledges.

“Where are you gonna take me?”

“Home.” Derek says. “Where else?”

Stiles just nods and leans his head against the seat. Derek pulls the car out of the school lot and starts driving.

It feels like twenty minutes have passed when the car finally stops. Even in his state, Stiles knows it doesn't take twenty minutes to drive back to his home. Especially when its still the middle of the day.

Derek opens his door, and then he's at Stiles' side, helping him out of the car. His arm wraps around Stiles' shoulder, and then they're walking.

“Be careful of your step.” Derek tells him. “The ground is a little uneven.”

Stiles nods and leans on Derek as he walks, being careful not to trip on any sudden rocks. Or twigs. Or clumps of dirt. Or his own shoes. Well, he's just being really careful, is all.

“Steps now.” Derek says quietly. “Four of them.”

Stiles feels with his foot, and yes, that is a step right there, thank you for that warning. He mentally counts the steps as he walks, four of them like Derek said, and then they're stopping for a second.

Derek opens the door and let Stiles in, closing it after them. He guides Stiles up a staircase, warning him of the number, and kicking random toys and other items out of the way. All in all, it's the easiest Stiles has ever had walking in an unfamiliar place.

Another door opens, and Derek shows him to a bed, urging him to sit down. Stiles does so, because he's tired, and in pain, and the idea of a bed, any bed, sounds great right now.

“I'm gonna go get you some water and Tylenol. I'll be right back.” Derek's voice startles him for some reason, but he just nods his head in agreement.

When Stiles can't hear Derek's footsteps anymore, he takes the opportunity to lay down completely. Thankfully the pillow falls naturally under his head, which is a good thing, because Stiles doesn’t know if he had the energy or motivation to fix it otherwise.

He's just getting comfy when a small voice startles him.

“Who are you?” the tiny voice asks. “Why are you in Derek's bed?”

“Tyler!” ah, Derek is back then. God, he's quick. 

“What have I said about coming into my room?”

“But you left your door open!” the tiny human argues.

“Because I was coming right back. But it doesn't matter if my door is opened or closed, you're still not allowed in. Now go away.”

Tyler stomps away, and Stiles hears him muttering under his breath. Then Derek is closing his door and making his way over to Stiles. Two pills and a glass of water are put to his lips, and Stiles takes them gratefully.

When the glass is empty, it's placed to the side and he lays back again, only to startle when a wet wash cloth touches his face.

“Easy.” Derek says. “You have dirt on your face.”

“Oh.” Stiles says.

“Let me know if it hurts.”

Stiles nods and then Derek is cleansing his face. It feels weird, because the cloth is so soft, ridiculously soft, and Derek is so careful with his movements. But it feels good, in a weird people-taking-care-of-me kind of way. It hurts only once, when Derek rubs at the corner of his left eye, which he can feel is swollen shut. At his wince of pain, Derek mutters a quiet sorry and immediately lifts up on the pressure. After his face, Derek cleans his neck, his arms and his hands, which are scraped from the concrete.

“There. All done.” He says at last.

Derek moves away, probably to take care of the rag, and Stiles wonders at his actions again.

“Um, not that I don’t appreciate any of this, because I do, but…” he trails off uncertainly, and is relieved when Derek answers anyway.

“But why am I helping you?” he finishes for him.

Stiles nods and Derek continues speaking. 

“Because it's not right, what that asshole did. Everyone knows you're blind, and you obviously didn’t knock him down on purpose. I just couldn’t stand to see you get hurt in an unfair fight.”

Stiles nods and asks one of the other questions on his mind.

“But why bring me to your house? You could've sent me home. Hell, you didn’t even have to drive me anywhere to begin with, they probably would've just taken me to the nurse's office.”

“It's just you and your dad, right?” Derek asks, in lieu of nothing.

“Uh, yeah.” Stiles says nervously.

“Well I imagine he's probably at work right now, so you'd be home alone right now if I did that. And then who would take care of you?”

“Derek,” Stiles says, irritation beginning to bubble up. “I may be blind, but I’m not helpless. Sure, that guy got the best of me, but he had a head start! And he could see! Today aside, I can take of myself.”

The bed dips and Derek’s hand touches his forehead, easing his hair back.

“I know you’re not helpless. That’s not what I meant.”

“Oh.” Stiles falters.

“I meant, you were attacked today. You were pretty out of it when I stopped the fight. I imagine it would’ve been too much, trying to take care of yourself, considering how badly that kid beat you, and how much pain you must be in.”

He trails off, and the bed moves as he lays down next to Stiles.

“Besides, maybe I just wanted to make sure you're okay. You never did answer me if you were alright, either time I asked.”

“Well isn’t that an answer in itself?”

“Hmm. I guess so.”

They both trail off this time, and Stiles is grateful for him all the same.

He rests, with Derek at his side, essentially watching over him, and it's pretty peaceful, all in all. Then Derek is asking him: "Do you want to stay for dinner? I think my mom is making lasagna."

Stiles huffs quietly, nodding as his lips turn up in a small smile. "Sure. Sounds great."

"Great." Derek says. And Stiles almost feels like laughing.


End file.
